


Where They First Met

by mickeyridini



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeyridini/pseuds/mickeyridini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake is on duty patrolling the halls of the Ark.  He hears a party going on and runs into one of the rich teenagers, Clarke Griffin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where They First Met

I’m on duty tonight. Patrolling the halls of the upper class. They get everything, the rich kids. And we get nothing. I don’t want to be on duty tonight, well I never do. But especially tonight. It’s O’s birthday. She had begged me to stay and play a board game with her, but I can’t. If she were someone registered on the Ark, it would be no problem. I could easily get off duty. But it’s different having a sister. Having O. I hate the system. Octavia is the best thing in the damn world, but more like the Ark, since the only survivable world, Earth, has been destroyed. If I were to stay home with O, they would get suspicious. And if they ever figured out what we are hiding, nothing bodes well for any of us. Especially O and my mother. O would be put in confinement and my mother would be killed. Although, my relationship with my mother isn’t good, I would never want her to be killed.

If only my mom would stay home for O’s birthday. Maybe Octavia could have fun and be happy. But mom can’t. She is always gone, saying she is “protecting” us. Ensuring that we are safe. The one useful thing she does is making sure she knows when the inspections happen so we can hide Octavia, when they come around checking. I know what she really does to get that information.

The rest is up to me. Getting food on the table, raising O. It’s my job. My responsibility. That’s what my mother told me the minute she gave birth to Octavia. She told me that O was my responsibility. And she is. I would do anything for her. The first time I held Octavia, I promised her that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I intend to keep that promise, as long as I’m alive.

I give Octavia a hug goodbye, before I leave. I also wish her a happy birthday, and promise that when I get home, if she’s still up I will play a game with her. I say that to make her feel better, but she will probably be asleep when I get back. She usually passes out, waiting up for me. I don’t tell her to stop waiting, though. I would never. O already thinks she is a burden. I tell her she’s not, but sometimes the way mom talks, it’s hard for me myself to think mom really wants her here. But I love Octavia, more than anyone. She has never been a burden. It’s just the dumb Ark and Chancellor Jaha who think she is worthless and should be killed. Because of their rules. I wonder if I’m the only one on this Ark with a sibling. There has to be others. Hasn’t there?

***

When I arrive by the hall I’m patrolling, I can hear a strong bass pumping. Curiosity takes over me, probably for the worst. I run down the halls, following the sound, moving quickly so I can be back before anyone notices I’m off my patrol. As I follow the music, I can hear murmurings of voices. Soon enough, when I reach my destination, one of the large flats defintley has a party going on.

Parties are forbidden on the Ark. Or so they say. I mean if it was one with only the lower class, then yeah, they would shut it down. I actually went to a few, before I became an officer, but we were always caught and sent home. They claim to shut down the parties for the upper class, but they never do. I hear them all the time. I don’t have the power to stop one. I tried to report it once, but Commander Shumway told me to ignore it. The rich are spoiled. They don’t get in trouble and can practically do what they want. Except for crimes. Ones that land them in jail. That is the only thing that people cannot escape on this ship. No matter who you are. You are killed, but we call it floating. If you’re younger than eighteen and you commit a crime you are locked up. And when you’re eighteenth birthday strikes you’re killed. This is why I can’t let Octavia get caught. She can’t rot in a cell, just to be floated when she reaches the right age. The leaders think they justify their actions by only killing you if you're eighteen. It’s just to seem good by saying they don’t kill children, only adults. But we all know, once you land in a cell, you’re gone. Dead. Floated.

I don’t dare open the door to the party. But I stand there for a few moments, taking in the sound of music. Ignoring the chattering teenagers. I love listening to music when I can. This is one of the only times I can. So I seize my chance.

I should probably get back to my station position, before Commander Shumway makes the rounds to make sure we are all where we are supposed to be, but I don’t move. I keep listening to the music. Remembering it, cherishing it. It will probably be a long time before I can listen to it again.

I wish O were here to listen to it. It would be the best birthday present ever. The only thing is it’s too dangerous. She has never stepped outside of our apartment. Just in case they come around checking ID cards. I know she would love music. I wish she could hear it too. I wish Octavia could do so many things. I wish so much for her. But we can’t risk it. I don’t know what I would do if Octavia was taken away from me.

As I’m listening to the music, the door suddenly opens up. I back out of the way, quickly, scared that I’ll be reported for not being in my correct stationed position. What if the person turn me in for not being where I’m supposed to be? I try to back away and hide behind the door.

Out of the apartment, comes a staggering girl, with golden hair. The girl slams the door shut, and I’m revealed. I pray that she doesn’t notice me.

The girl turns her head towards my direction and I know I’m caught. “Oh, Hello,” she says as her face brightens up, walking towards me. “Enjoying the party, Officer?” She says pointing to my uniform, giggling a little bit. Clearly, the rich kids have been drinking at this party. Not shocking. They are teenagers after all.

The girl keeps staring at me and I’m not really sure what to do. She is probably only a few years younger than me. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail and her bright, blue eyes look exhausted and confused. “Have you seen Wells?” She asks, like I should know who that is. I don’t bother to learn the names of the upper class. But Wells name sounds familiar. Everyone knows who he is. Wells is the son of the very leader of the Ark. Chancellor Jaha. This girl must be real spoiled if she hangs out with the Chancellor’s son.

“Nope,” I say.

She staggers a little more, “Hmmmm. Where am I? What direction is home?” she asks herself, whispering.

“I’ll take you back there, if you would like.” I say that, deciding that I can have an excuse for not being on my patrol. I don’t think Commander Shumway would get angry, if I was helping one of the rich citizens on the Ark. Hey, if she is the daughter of someone important, maybe I will be thanked. Maybe I’m doing the right thing, escorting a girl, who is not herself, home. After all, she knows the Chancellor’s son. I mean if anything happened to one of the precious rich girls, there would be riots. But the same for someone poor, they wouldn’t even blink an eye.

“Okay.” She says, giggling again. She is quite the happy girl. She must have a wonderful life. Rich, never hungry, never worrying about inspections, and so many other privileges.

“Where do you live?” I ask her. When she tells me the hall and apartment number, I know exactly where it is. It’s in the direction of where I am supposed to be patrolling.

I walk her there, lightly holding on to her arm, making sure she doesn’t fall down. It wouldn’t be good if she cracked her head open or something. I would definitely be blamed, or something. We don’t talk as we walk. I would like to move much quicker, but I can’t because she would trip and most likely fall to the ground.

Her head bobs a little, and she leans towards me, trying to stay steady. I hope when we get there that her parents don’t see anything. I would much prefer to stay out of questioning and such.

When we reach her door I ask, “This is it?”

“Yep,” she says. “My home,” the girl says dragging out her words slowly.

“Goodnight,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says to me. I’m shocked that she even thanks me. The girl staggers to the door and starts turning the doorknob to her home and tells me, facing the door, “By the way, I’m Clarke.” She turns her head in my direction and gives me a warm smile.

She opens up the door and slips inside the dark apartment. “Goodnight,” I hear a faint whisper. And then the door closes, Clarke’s face now cut off.

I hope that nobody saw. Questions aren’t good. They aren’t good for keeping a low profile. Maybe I did the wrong thing. But then again, she could’ve gotten hurt. I hope I was right and that it doesn’t come back to bite me. She wasn’t too bad. Clarke is different from all the other rich girls I have met. There was just something about her. She thanked me. No one ever acknowledges me. Hopefully, she will forget this all.

Then again, maybe I want her to remember. Maybe I want her to remember me.


End file.
